image [d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_left.png]

image [d2d_images/chapter_title_corner_decoration_right.png]

image [d2d_images/chapter_title_above.png]

image [d2d_images/chapter_title_below.png]

Escott put the last stone on the wall and stepped back. It looked good despite having children as its architect. Today, too, as he remained outside far longer than he should, he listened for any conversation in passing.

In the last two months, he’d found it a useful way to discover fights or any other worries the children hid. That wasn’t the only reason he did it, though. It was sneaky and underhanded, but he no longer cared.

He did it to spy on Arma.

As he sat, the cold wind picking up, he put a radio down and tuned it. Even with that, he could still hear them—he could hear a lot better lately.

“His voice has changed, too,” Arma said, “and he’s taller.”

Pots clung and clanged. Escott’s Eza still worried for him, almost to the point of sickness. “That might mean the Baby Eyes are about done.”

“Is that really a thing?”

“It’s really a thing. We’ve just never seen it happen so late, but nearly every one of them go through it. That’s why I worry. The way he’s handling it...it’s almost cold. It’s not like him. Has...has he cried or?”

Arma laughed. “Escott? No. Nothing. I can’t even imagine it. He wakes up before the sun and goes to bed after the moon. I worried at first, but he eats and that’s usually how I gauge things for my lot—if someone’s not eating, it’s time to worry.”

Escott snorted under his breath. Perhaps that would be the time to worry after all. From here he could see the gates of the cemetery and a gray spec that was two months young.

“He hasn’t said anything,” Arma said, “but I wonder, is it really all right for us to stay here? He’s so generous, but I don’t want to take advantage of that. Sometimes he snaps at the children, even little Maxi who he usually lets cry for as long as he wants.”

More clangs came and went. “Helping others gets his mind off things. It...it makes him feel better. I wish he’d go down and see her. Her resting place was very good. For me...when I saw her there, that was the first time I stopped feeling so angry.”

“I suppose I can ask him. Now that the fence is nearly done. He won’t have an excuse, I bet.”

A long pause followed before Eza said, “But you’re not staying?”

Arma didn’t answer right away. Eventually, she said, “Blackwell was my worry, but I haven’t seen anything from him. He has a long memory. But Sash’ll recover soon and that’s one more mouth to feed and I cannot ask that in good conscience. My lot cannot read and cannot speak the language without me present. That won’t sustain them. If we stay, perhaps we should rent the structure. That still means work for me. I farmed, but I didn’t farm land. I cannot do much here. The children are better and faster than me most days. I fight. That is my trade.”

“I see. Well, if you two go your separate ways, hopefully Essy’ll come home rather than stay here alone. This house’ll be a waste then, so see about that rental.”

“Thank you. I....”

Escott adjusted the radio, tuning them out. The song playing wasn’t half bad and he listened for a good while. He didn’t want to stay out too late—it was important to keep routine.

And they were on a set routine. Arma came out with Escott’s dinner, regular like clockwork. This wasn’t the first time Eza had made her promise to get Escott down to that grave, but this was the first time Arma actually mentioned it instead of hinting.

“I passed it by yesterday. It looked very nice—as nice as a grave can look, I suppose.”

Escott’s gut burned. He tried to eat past it.

Arma turned the radio down. “And I hadn’t expected to see her grinning like that. But your Eza forced someone to change it. Luckily, they could have moved fast enough to. It’s rather elegant.”

“Stop,” Escott said, finally. He could barely stand to swallow down his meal. “I’m not going, so just stop.”

He put the plate to rest between them and picked the radio up again. Drowning her out wasn’t his intent; he just needed something else to do so that he could avoid her gaze.

“Nobody blames you for what happened,” Arma said at length.

“Why would they? None of it was my fault. My meddlesome little sister lost her life trying to give a pity fuck to my loser best friend.” He meant to sound bitter, but it came out making him look and feel like an asshole.

Arma didn’t take the bait. “Blame you for what happened with your friend, I mean. I don’t think even he blamed you. For him, living with that was too hard. The second you cut him, he knew, and he accepted it. You should know that.”

In all this time, two months and counting, she’d never told him. She’d also never pushed it. A small conversation here or there was the most they had around one another.

Arma was different from Lilah—Arma made bad jokes. She also kept her mouth shut and kept to the farm. And Escott could admit, she wasn’t very good, even at cooking. Most of the kids handled breakfast. They in fact worked around her. And in that time, Escott had come to find that Ice, or even Sasha who was from the separate lot that combined with hers, must have taken care of the cooking and regulating of the group. What did Armas do? Punish and protect basically.

Today, Escott felt ill-at-ease. He didn’t necessarily want her to go. Not for the housing issue. He wasn’t prepared to ask her to stay, though.

Arma eased closer, and Escott saw why—Lilah’s bike came to a halt a good distance away. She was closer today, but he waited to see if she’d turn back like she had a dozen times before.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

Escott wished she wouldn’t come. Seeing her pause and debate coming to give him a simple gesture of condolence was already painful to endure.

Communicating with her wasn’t something he looked forward to, either. It was rude and forward, but Escott wrapped his right hand around Arma’s waist and pressed his face against her neck.

She stiffened. The shock would wear off eventually, and Escott could find something to say but first he wanted to make sure Lilah left. Sure enough, the bike revved, and she was gone by the time he looked.

Escott took his hand back and worked with the dials on the radio.

“You should let her comfort you,” Arma said.

“She doesn’t know how to comfort anybody, not even herself.” He paused to say sorry but instead kept focused on the uneaten meal. He wanted to finish it. It wouldn’t be hard to just tilt his head back and swallow it whole like he’d done for weeks now.

Arma’s hand came to rest over his before he could make the attempt.

“I don’t have any siblings, and I think of the two of my lot that I lost trying to come here whenever I wrestle with how to approach or respond to you. And I can tell you what I told Mouse, that denying they ever existed was the worst thing we could do for them. And I’ll tell you now, saying the awful things you do about your sister, not seeing her, it’s a disgrace and it might be one you eventually regret.”

Escott slipped from her grip. He resolved to ignore her and she let him. She wasn’t going to leave, not with Sasha coming back tomorrow. Maybe she knew he was listening and that was why she’d said those things to Eza. Staying busy with the farm kept Escott’s mind from being idle too long.

“I think they were both lonely and made a mistake. And I don’t think it’s what you call it, and even if it was, that’s none of your business.” Arma leaned to the right, trying to meet his gaze. “She was your sister and a friend. And she—”

“And she died for nothing.” Escott met Arma’s gaze. “Every night I sit down here for a few seconds and look at that cemetery and the urge to saunter over there never occurs. And do you know why? Because if she was still alive, I’d just take her for granted, anyway. If she was here right now, I’d still ignore her and tell her to go the fuck home rather than come around with her gossip. All right? That’s what would happen. And she did something stupid and she didn’t think of us when she got herself killed and wrecked this fucking family. So no. I don’ think calling it all what it wasn’t will make up for this. It was stupid.”

Arma opened her mouth to speak so Escott turned up the radio. He downed his dinner in one go, forcing his throat to expand. Imps could do it much easier and faster, but this was better than nothing.

Escott put the plate down as Karen Blackwell’s voice screeched out of the device in his hand.

“I wish to convey some good news that it is a boy and he’s big and healthy. It is a bittersweet moment as I must confess something to you all. My husband...has been missing for two months now. We’ve searched high and low. The enforcers have informed me that some fighting broke out at the gate that night the imp Guardian rose unexpectedly. Someone said they saw him rushing there to help our feeble enforcers. That is so like him. I didn’t want to believe it, but two months has confirmed our suspicions. I only pray that my darling husband will know how beautiful our first child together is. Why I remember....”

Escott fought back a gag as he lowered the volume. He didn’t make it too quiet for fear Arma would say something. And this was bad. Blackwell was gone. Died fighting? That could be...no doubt fighting off Karen’s imp lover who fed him to the Guardian. That was unexpected on Karen’s part but something Escott could understand and respect. The man should have been dead ten times over for what he did to Princess.

This was Arma’s free pass.

“Lastly, I’d like to give my very late condolences to our Chief Enforcer whose darling young daughter passed away due to an unknown illness two months prior. She will be missed.”

Breath hitching, Escott stared at the radio.

“Is everything a lie? Is everything a fucking lie to these people?” He stood and sent the radio crashing into the fence.

Arma stepped before him. “Hey. Please. Please. I don’t think she meant it out of disrespect. Please. But people wanted to know what happened and no one said. And besides that, at least she’s not blaming an imp or a Newbreed.”

“She couldn’t, because of her own damn son being involved.”

When he tried to walk around Arma, she held on tighter. “No. No. I don’t think that’s it.” Arma tried to meet his gaze with little success. “Essy....”

“Don’t call me Essy. You’re not supposed to call your husband by a casual name.”

They both froze at his words. He wanted to take them back. He hadn’t been sure about his weird fixation with her. He’d even resolved to ignore that, too. But he wanted her to stay.

“Then what can I call you?”

“You have a nickname for every other fucking person. You can find one for me, too.”

Her final attempt to meet his gaze broke his resolve.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” Arma admitted. “It hurts to see you like this and I want to leave you to it, and you wear this anger well but...but it doesn’t suit you. What happened wasn’t your fault. And the death of your friend...it’s okay to regret that, too.”

“There’s no regret.” Escott tried to break free. He could easily do it and she wasn’t holding him all that tightly, but he felt defeated. “I don’t regret it,” he said again. “I don’t regret killing that lonely, pathetic loser trying to take advantage of a nice nobody he ends up killing in a twisted act of irony.” His body trembled, but he hoped she realized it was because of the breeze and nothing else. “If he’d bitten her...if he’d bitten her, she wouldn’t have panicked. He wouldn’t have absorbed that fucking emotion and stopped part way. And she wouldn’t have died. But he didn’t. He didn’t bite her for whatever stupid, stupid reason, and I hope he rots in hell.”

Arma let him go, and as small as the action was, Escott felt like a chasm formed between them.

She stared at him for so long that he felt frail. When she tried to walk away, he grabbed her arm.

Escott waited, but she didn’t face him again. His breathing grew ragged.

“He didn’t bite her because he wanted to be sure she had her freedom,” Escott admitted. “And when they asked him to try and....” He sucked in a deep breath then let it out. “Finish...and he couldn’t....”

This was a point of contention even now because while his father had been vehemently against it, his Eza had begged Lander to try. Escott stood now, unsure who was worse for taking which stance. The other big irony being that of his parents, he hadn’t expected either to take the stance they’d chosen.

“Because that loser was insecure...both at the start, and at the medical center. And that insecurity cost them both their lives for no good reason.” Escott let Arma go. “She was insecure, and he was insecure and neither deserved what happened but saying that now is utterly useless.” A tear ran down his cheek as he laughed. “Because I didn’t say it to either of them.

“I picked on her about her looks even though there was nothing to pick on. And I never told him to go after Lilah instead even though he was a good guy and she was the problem, not him. I didn’t say shit. I made fun of my sister, and I allowed myself to get engaged to the woman my best friend loved. And he had to stare into my face each and every fucking day forgiving me and acting like I was the better pick and that’s why he didn’t have a fucking chance. Not realizing that Lilah’s so damn coldhearted.”

The trembling became too much, and he had to sit. Arma sat with him.

Sitting up was a chore so Escott decided to brace his forearms on his knees.

“And I regret not going in there to see her and stand with her like she wanted in the end. But what’s the point in saying all this now? What’s the point in saying everything now when they were alive, and I never would have said them? And of course, everybody noticed me before Gwen, and I reveled in that. I had to. In a family this big, it’s easy to get lost. But I’m the oldest, I’m the most important, and I told myself that again and again. And my father was the Chief and my fiancée came from a good family. So why the fuck would I ever have to admit how meaningless that all was? And why say it now when they’re gone? When I can’t say it to them?”

Arma held his shoulder, and then ran her fingers through his hair. Escott fell over.

He fell over, his face in her lap as he cried. And when she pulled him closer, he only cried harder.

“Don’t leave. You don’t have to leave.”

Arma muttered through a sniff. “I just didn’t want...I just...I just wanted you to know that I would if you wanted me to.”

“No. Don’t leave. I would have let you walk right the fuck out of here without telling you I wanted you to stay. So don’t leave. Everybody else is gone.”